


The Nice and Accurate Account of the Averted Destruction of London and the Earth

by i_am_not_a_psychopath



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Superwholock, Wholock, and greek gods, mostly wholock though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_not_a_psychopath/pseuds/i_am_not_a_psychopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the tale of how Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor adverted the destruction of London and the Earth, and it was a series of events so amazing for its characters, that a few humans blessed with creativity and an interest in these shows can recall some of these events, which is how the idea of Wholock came to be in the Sherlock and Doctor Who fandoms. But while these Wholock speculations and stories are wonderful, this is the true nice and accurate account of how Sherlock Holmes (along with Dr. Watson), the Doctor, and I, the Goddess of Wholock, adverted the destruction of London and the Earth.</p><p>Get the help of Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor. I need you to help me save the world.<br/>-I.A</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Most tales start with “once upon a time” or something like that, intending to give background, or to set the story. But this story must be set up by telling about things which exist in the present. There are two very crucial things which must be known before their stories can be told. First thing, there is a brilliant British television show called Sherlock, which is written by Steven Moffat, Steve Thomson, and Mark Gatiss (more on him later). The show is about the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in modern London, and has quite an interesting fandom. The second thing is a television show called Doctor Who, this is much more widely known, and is also written by Moffat and Gatiss. While it may not seem like any odd thing that these writers write together on these shows, it has actually quite an interesting background to it, one which no human fully knows. It is the tale of how Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor adverted the destruction of London and the Earth, and it was a series of events so amazing for its characters, that a few humans blessed with creativity and an interest in these shows can recall some of these events, which is how the idea of Wholock came to be in the Sherlock and Doctor Who fandoms. But while these Wholock speculations and stories are wonderful, this is the true nice and accurate account of how Sherlock Holmes (along with Dr. Watson), the Doctor, and I, the Goddess of Wholock, adverted the destruction of London and the Earth.

Get the help of Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor. I need you to help me save the world.

-I.A

This was the text message I received one April morning from powerful Goddess known to many by the name Irene Alder, or sometimes as “mum” to me. Though she is more or less my mother (I’ll explain the details later when they’re relevant), not even I know exactly what Irene is the Goddess of, just that she is extremely influential, powerful, and that there is speculation between those godly beings that know her that she may be the Goddess of love reincarnated. There are a few things which I realize I should clarify about the Gods. One important thing being that, yes, there are quite a few of us, and while we follow closely to the Greek ideas of the gods, however, the Greek gods died out long ago. Many of the important gods and goddess have been reincarnated in some form or another, and many new gods have been born. For example, Hades is no longer a rather creepy old man in a toga, but a smartly dressed English man who is quite sassy and has a dark sense of humor. The new Hades also tends to go instead by the name Crowley, though he answers to Hades in serious situations. Most of the important reincarnations have modernized their appearances to that they can interact with the world without getting strange looks or possibly being arrested for walking down a city street in a toga, with a beard of flames. Some still do retain some inhuman features; Poseidon still has a fish tail, but now he also has nipple rings and gauges… Anyways, there are also quite a few new gods. I am an example of this, and I am completely up to date in my appearance as such. I tend to just wear jeans, a graphic tee-shirt, and a jumper or jacket. I also fully appreciate and utilize electronics, such as my phone and laptop. I am also quite fond of the internet and instant video streaming, both of which are completely essential to my duties as the Goddess of Wholock. But enough about the current gods, I apparently had to save the world.

Finding Sherlock Holmes was absolutely no problem. I usually live in a nice flat in London, 187 North Gower Street to be exact, and North Gower Street is only a 10 minute walk or so from 221B Baker Street, the residence of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. I already knew of both Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor before I received the text, so I knew that finding the Doctor would be much more difficult than just finding his address and hoping he was in. The Doctor is a timelord, an ancient race of time travelers from a planet called Gallifrey. The Doctor is the only timelord remaining, as the others were killed in a great time war, and the only other timelord to escape other than the Doctor was the Master, who was recently been killed by his wife after taking over the world during the year-that-never-happened (which if you’re human, you cannot remember), then brought back, and killed again while actually saving the Earth from the chaos he created. But now there is just the Doctor, and he continues to travel time and space in the TARDIS (time and relative dimension in space), usually with a companion or two, saving planets, species, civilizations, and people. I knew that he wasn’t traveling with a companion at the time, but I still had no idea where or when he might be.  So because of that, I decided I would pay Sherlock a vist first.

Being a goddess and such means that I have quite a few supernatural powers, suck as being able to manipulate objects, and I can travel both time and space in an instant if I so wish. So while I certainly could have just appeared in the sitting room of 221B Baker Street, I instead walked there, mostly because I enjoy London quite a lot, and partially because I’ve found that the suddenly appearing seemingly out of thin air in the middle of the sitting room during tea tends to unnerve most people. So there I was, walking to Baker Street, contemplating the world and as I had finally decided that a bird and a mountain was indeed an excellent metaphor for how to save the world, when I literally ran face first into the TARDIS. I thanked the Goddess Tyche (who, by the way, currently runs a very successful casino in Los Vegas) and pounded on the door. 

 “Doctor! Open the door! I need to talk to you!” I shouted, hoping that he would hear me and not disappear off to another time when I need him; trying to follow him would be a pain.

He didn’t though, and instead he opened the door, stuck his head out, and I nearly hit him in the face.

“Hello there! What can I help you with?” I noted that he was wearing a fez, which seemed like an odd article of clothing for the protector of time and space. But he was also wearing a bowtie and suspenders, so somehow the fez seemed less weird.

“I like the fez. And I need your help in saving the world.” I thought it best to be direct with this, because that was about all the information I had on the matter.

“Oh thank you, fezzes are cool, aren’t they? And I’d be happy to help. So you seem to already know who I am, but who are you?”

“Yes, they are I suppose. Brilliant, I’m a Goddess who follows after the Greek gods and goddess who have been reincarnated or newly created to be fitting for the current time.” That was the closest thing to a proper title for my line of gods, because we weren’t actually worshiped by any religion or people, and the title certainly was correct, if a bit confusing. I just wished it was shorter. Or maybe it could have a cool acronym or something.

“They are definitely cool. Ooh, that’s interesting, haven’t heard that for a while, what planet are you from?”

“I’m from Earth I suppose. And I really am a descendant of the ancient Greek gods.” I’d never thought about what planet I was from, I noted that as an excellent question to go ask a religious Greek philosopher. That’d be an interesting thing to find in the history books.

“Oh, well then, how can I help you save the world?”

“First, take me to 221B Baker Street, we need a consulting detective.”


	2. Chapter 2

 “Sherlock, is the police box in the kitchen a new experiment?” John Watson was looking rather confused about this recent addition to the flat. He had gone to make tea, and instead found a blue police box taking up most of the entrance to the kitchen.

_Well at least it’s not another dead body on the table._

“Hmm? No, but I know what it is.” Sherlock Holmes looked up from his position on the couch. Unlike John, he didn’t seem to find the sudden appearance of a rather large police box all that troubling.

“Care to explain then?”

“It’s the TARDIS. And inside is an old friend of mine.”

“The what? And how do you mean ‘old friend’ I thought you didn’t have friends.”

Before Sherlock could have answered, I came out of the TARDIS and nearly ran into John.

“Sherlock Holmes?” I asked him. While I knew about Sherlock Holmes, I hadn’t met him before. And yes, I had seen pictures of him in the paper, but it’s not my fault that traveling in the TARDIS messes with my head.

“Uh, no, he is.” John pointed at Sherlock, who, despite the action coming from only a few yards away, hadn’t bothered to get up.

“Oh, brilliant. Doctor, you got the address right this time!” I had explained to the Doctor more about the current gods, and told him that I had been told to find him and Sherlock Holmes. We had also discussed my metaphor for the apocalypse in greater detail, but I won’t go into that. Consequently, he had been slightly distracted, and we had first shown up in the hotel room of two brothers who pointed guns at us when we opened the door. “Are you demons or some new monster?” “Neither, I’m a goddess and he’s a timelord. Where and when are we?” “Kansas, 2008.” “Bother. Doctor, you nearly got the time right, but the place is really off, we’re in America!” We had left the brothers looking somewhat confused, but less so than they should have been in my opinion. They had seemed used to odd happenings.

“Oh, right, yes I recognize you from each of your blogs. Love those by the way.” Of course I recognized Sherlock; he had very distinct features, and was really very tall.

“ Right. So who the hell are you?” I thought that John was handling two people coming out of a box which can suddenly appear in the kitchen rather well.

“Oh, yes, I’m a Greek goddess of the new order or what is as close to an order as you can have without any worshipers or rules. And he’s the Doctor, timelord, 907, time and space trav- Sherlock cut me off then

“”He’s a time traveling alien from the planet Gallifrey. Care for some tea Doctor?”

Oh, well apparently they already knew each other, that made it easier for me.

“Wait, no, what? Alien time traveler?” Now John seemed confused.

“Yes, exactly. Hello John.” The Doctor bounced over and shook his hand. “Were you going to make tea?”

John had made enough tea for all of us, and while Sherlock and the Doctor were catching up, and Sherlock was explaining alien life to John, I texted Irene for more details.

I’ve found Sherlock and the Doctor, we’re at 221B, what do we do next?

-W

She didn’t respond immediately, but right when John asked a very reasonable question, “So what are we all doing here?” All the phones in the flat had gone off simultaneously.

The Doctor dashed into the TARDIS, John pulled his phone out of his pocket, I did likewise,   and Sherlock ignored his, taking a drink of his tea.

Stop Jim Moriarty and the Master.

-IA

My heart filled with dread. I knew of both of those men. The Master I have already explained, but Jim Moriarty is different. He had created and run the larges world crime syndicate which had controlled most of the crime in the world. He was the most dangerous man in London. As Sherlock once put him, he was a spider, a spider sitting in the middle of a web, a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances. As Sherlock Holmes is a consulting detective, James Moriarty was a consulting criminal. And Jim Moriarty had been dead for over three years. If that wasn’t bad enough, the Master was also included in that text. I’ve already explained the  Master, so it should be no hard thing to realize that the Master and Jim Moriarty both back from the dead and apparently working together was a very, very bad thing.


	3. Chapter 3

John seemed to have received a similar text, for his face paled and he turned to Sherlock, worry and concern on his face.

“Sherlock, he’s back again.”

John had held out his phone for Sherlock to read, but instead Sherlock took out his own.

Being dead was sooo boring. I’ve come back to play a little game.

-JM

The Doctor had then coming running out of the TARDIS, a phone in hand.

“I have some very not good news. The Master is back again!”

“Yes, we’re aware. Jim Moriarty’s back too.” I replied, holding out John’s phone for him to look at. Sherlock had begun texting at high speed, probably contacting his brother Mycroft (who pretty much is the British government) and replying to Moriarty.

“Excuse me, how can Moriarty be back? He died three years ago.” John again with his rational questions.

“I’ve no idea,” I told him. “But we can assume he and the Master made some sort of deal with Crowley.”

“Uh, right, who’s Crowley?”

“King of Hell. Also known as Lucifer or Satan by some now a day, but he’s really Hades reincarnated.”

“Right. And the Master?”

“I’ll let the Doctor explain.”

While the Doctor and John were talking, I went to Sherlock to figure out Jim Moriarty.

“So have you gotten a reply yet?”

“Yes, we’re to meet him and the Master on the rooftop of St. Bart’s.”

“Oh, that seems simple enough. Why isn’t he making a game out of this?”

“I don’t know.”

Those three words coming out of the mouth of Sherlock Holmes were the worst things I could have heard. Sherlock always knew, that was the game between him and Moriarty. Each was trying to be ten steps ahead of a man who was always ten ahead of everyone else. And now Moriarty seemed to be winning.

We all got into the TARDIS and flew to the rooftop of the hospital where the previous final meeting of Sherlock and Moriarty took place. To save his friends and complete Moriarty’s story, Sherlock had been made to commit suicide by jumping off the roof, but he had somehow faked his death and allowed the public and John to believe him dead for three years before returning to Baker Street and clearing his name. But before Sherlock had jumped, Moriarty had shot himself in the head, and he had not faked his death. But when we got out of the TARDIS, there was Jim Moriarty and the Master sitting next to each other, madman grins spread across their faces.

They both looked as they had when they had died, Moriarty in the same Westwood suit and tie, and the Master in a black hoodie and black jeans. Staying Alive by the Bees Gees was playing out loud like it had when Sherlock had first faced Moriarty here.

“Staying Alive seems so much more ironic now, doesn’t it?” Moriarty snapped the phone closed as he said this. His Dublin accent and sing song manner were unchanged, but there was even more bitterness in his voice.

 “Seems we’ve been here before Sherlock. Three years wasn’t it? Huh. Time flies when you’re down in Hades. See you’ve gotten your pet back. Hullo Johnny boy!”

“How are you alive?” Sherlock remained as composed as ever, but there was fear inside his head. I don’t know if it was from the return of his dead enemy, or the worry he couldn’t beat him again.

“Good question! I’m surprised your little demigod friend hasn’t told you yet.”

“I told him you made a deal with Crowley, but I don’t know how you managed that, he doesn’t deal with the dead.” I really was surprised that they had managed to get out of Hades. Crowley was quite good at order.

“We had special access. We were both so bad; the king of hell wanted an audience. Hello again Doctor. Too bad about the regeneration, I liked that face.” He was still much the same, the insane lord of time.

“I’m sorry Master.”

“Ooh, that’s sweet. But guess what? The drums are gone! I can’t hear them anymore! Haha!”

 “Then what are you doing here?”

“I was getting to that,” said Moriarty, standing up. “We’re here for a bit of fun. Being dead was booring after a while, there’s only so much chaos and destruction we could cause down there, much more potential on Earth.”

“We will stop you.” John looked at them with loathing.

“Tut tut. You’d think you’d have figured it out by now. There is no stopping me. Sherlock couldn’t beat me when I was alive, now, you couldn’t even kill me.”

Sherlock and Moriarty started talking as well at the Doctor and the Master. It was interesting to watch the interactions of these brilliant enemies. They were attracted to the other in a deadly way, the other was the moral opposite, but they were the same in every other way. They spoke like old friends, but also like snakes, their words twisting around the others’, all being very clever.

John and I hung back near the TARDIS.

“What are we going to do?”

“I’ve no idea. I don’t know how they got out of Hades, let alone how to get them back in. I don’t have Crowley in my phone list.”

Then I remembered a bit of god lore. I realized what Moriarty and the Master might be trying to do, they had chosen Moriarty’s place of death so that he could unlock a gate to Hades and bring it to Earth. My face must have shown some of my thought, because John looked at me in concern.

“What?”

“I think they’re going to bring Hell to Earth.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I think they’re going to bring Hades to Earth.”

“What? How? What do we do?”

“I told you I don’t know what to do! But all Moriarty needs to have is the right incantation, and he can unlock the gate.”

“What if I kill him?”

“He’s dead. It might distract him a bit. Probably ruin his suit.”

“Well I’ll give you some time to think.” And John pulled his Browning L9A1 from his back pocket.

“No, what are you doing?”

“Haven’t got Sebastian Moran to point a sniper at my head this time Moriarty.”

“Oh, guns, I do not like guns. Always the soldiers with the guns pointed at people.” The Doctor had a thing against people using guns; he preferred to get everyone he could out alive. No one else on the roof had a problem with them though.

“Seriously? You’re going to shoot me? I’m already dead.” He rolled his eyes and pulled out a small book from his coat pocket. “But you’ve probably then realized what we’re here for, so I’d better just get on with it.”

John fired and the bullet just passed through him as if he were a ghost, which he may actually have been, I forget the exact details on people who are back from the dead, it doesn’t happen often.

“How rude. That actually hurt a bit.” He flicked his hand and John flew backwards and crashed into the TARDIS.

The spell wasn’t all that long, so the gate had already begun to open. So that one properly understands the Gate of Hades, it is not in any one place like a normal gate, it exists everywhere. It doesn’t open a door in the normal thought of a door, it opens the connection between two dimensions locked together and simultaneously occupying the same space. The souls of the dead are able to pass this dimension lock through a sort of bridge, referred to  as the River Styx in Greek mythology, the Bifrost in Norse, personified as the Grim Reaper in western culture, it is more or less purgatory in Christianity, and the source of dark matter . There is no exact description of it, but I imagine the Doctor could explain it pretty well and you could confuse any mortal with it. This middle area should never ever even possibly maybe be broken, and that’s what Jim Moriarty was doing.

The cracks in time started first. The cracks were big long pieces of time colliding with one another, breaking apart at the seams where they meet, warping timelines and erasing history, cracks forming in the living memory all throughout time and space.

Entire civilizations and planets were being eradicated before us, the six people on the rooftop. We were the eye of the storm, the chaos wouldn’t affect us.

“Doctor what do we do?” I had to yell, the city was crashing down around us, and the vacuum of the cracks were rather loud.

“I don’t know! Sonicing it doesn’t do anything! You’re the demigod, shouldn’t there have been some instruction on these kind of situations?”

“Yeah, of course, how could I have possibly forgotten my “How to Fix the Worlds in Case of Undead Psychopaths” lessons at a time like this? No, there’s not! They didn’t even give me a book or anything!” In speculation, some sort of Guide to the World and Other Realms: What to do as a Demigod would be a really useful book.

At that point we were all just screaming at each other to think of something, and then the physical world begun to break apart where Hades was coming through.

The land on which the hospital stood had raised high above the tops of London; we could see giant cracks in the Earth forming, heat pouring out of them. Black creatures could be seen coming up from Hades. Those were lost souls who had been trapped in the middle dimension, twisted and contorted into pure evil. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if those got out, because I know what would happen, and I cannot describe it.

“Somebody DO something!” I screamed. My voice was lost in the nose of the ending of the world. Drowned out by the billions of other tiny voices yelling out in absolute terror, unheard in the sounds of countries literally falling apart.

 Then amongst the cacophony of unleashed chaos, I heard chorus to Staying Alive.

Moriarty put the book down and groaned.

“Does no one have any sense of timing? Do you mind, I should really get that.”

Sherlock just nodded his head, John stood with his mouth slightly open, the Doctor sort of flailed about looking confused, and the Master sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“What?” I was just as confused as the rest of them. The caller had excellently terrible timing, and who calls a dead guy in the middle of the apocalypse?

“Yes, hallo?” Moriarty sounded exasperated and annoyed with the caller, he had the expression of a business man who had gotten a call in a meeting.

“What? Now? I’m in the middle of something.” He mouthed “sorry” at all of us, and waved his hand to tell the Master to get on with it.

The Master went to pick up the book, but the Doctor had snatched it from him.

“Yes, alright. Fine.” He closed the phone and turned to the Master. “Crowley wants us back in Hades.”

“What, now?”

“Yes now,” said a new voice. We all turned to look at the speaker.

What appeared to be a well-dressed business man came walking up to us. He had slicked back black hair, black sunglasses, and all black clothes. He skin was deathly pale, and if you could see them, his eyes were dark red. This was Crowley, also known as Hades.

 “I did not give you clearance to bring Hades into the living world. Now I have a bunch of lost souls on my hands, and a lot of very angry demons. Off you go. Both of you are to see me when I get back.”

Jim Moriarty and the Master disappeared before our eyes. Crowley turned to me.

“Hello Crowley.” He and I had actually met before by chance in a tea shop of all places.

“Hello. I’ll leave you to take care of these people, and you can sort out the stories, right?”

“Well, I can handle these people, bu-“

“Lovely. Be seeing you.” And with that Hades disappeared as well.

 

I wiped most of the memories from Sherlock and John, after returning them to Baker Street in the TARDIS. Crowley fixed up the dimensions and time, so all that was right as it should have been, and the Doctor flew off into the stars.

I was left to try to give some explanation to the humans for the memory fragments that remained from the universe-wide mind blank. The human mind is funny sometimes; it seems to hang on to certain things no matter what. Some of this was retained by a few people for instance. So what we’ve figured out best controls these memories is to provide the human race with people who can retell parts of the story. So I created two prophets, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat to tell the separate stories of Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor. However, the fans of these stories are wonderfully brilliant, and so they remembered a bit more. They remembered Sherlock and the Doctor working together, so they created Wholock.


End file.
